I have a friend who talks to herself on her blog. She’s quite bright and so she figured out long before I did that no one else in this world can really listen to us – at least not all the time or even most of the time. I’ve known that for a while, but I’ve tried to deny it. Not that that is anyone’s fault – we’re all sealed up in our soft shelled tombs of silence. Or to put it another way – our house has been left unto us desolate. Adam’s race has been dashed to bits against the stones – perhaps his body has lost more blood than it yet has left to lose. There is a death in realizing that no one wants to dance anymore. There is a grief that occurs when the song in one’s heart can no longer be found. Maybe tomorrow I won’t feel this empty space. Or maybe I will – who knows? Maybe tomorrow will never come and I will go to sleep tonight with all those souls who have slipped beneath the eternal quiet place and no longer contemplate joy nor fear sorrow.
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